


Hurts To Think About

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Painplay, Podfic Available, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is right.  Erik wants pain.  But the usual ways won't work for him, so they'll need to come up with something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurts To Think About

**Author's Note:**

> There are some mild references to unspecified past trauma on Erik's part in this story; please be advised!
> 
>  **Podfic!** This story was podficced by the lovely Reena Jenkins, and you can [find the podfic here](http://reena-jenkins.livejournal.com/59190.html)! Thank you!

The first and only time Charles bites Erik's shoulder, Erik jerks back, chest heaving. He can't even get out the word _no_.

The advantages of having a telepath for a lover: Charles can hear it anyway. Or--no, perhaps the fact that his lover is a telepath is the problem. Erik rubs at his shoulder and frowns at Charles. "What have you been peeking into?"

Charles at least has the decency to look abashed. "I'm sorry, Erik. I just--you're so interested in it, you want it so badly--"

Erik's throat tightens; he tries to swallow past it, but it takes a few tries. "You don't know what you're talking about," he whispers, finally.

"No, I realize that now, I'm so sorry--" Charles rubs both hands over his face. "Please believe me, if I'd understood how it needs to happen for you, I never would have tried to hurt you uninvited."

 _How it needs to happen for you,_ Erik thinks. His skin is crawling. "Stop acting as if you know me better than I know myself," he snaps, but the shame's so heavy on him it's nearly palpable.

He rolls off Charles, over to the side of Charles's bed, and sits up. His underwear's just off the side of the bed, the same for his jeans. He reaches for them, puts them on, but he sits back down once he's gotten his jeans over his hips. "If I'd wanted that, I would have asked for it."

Charles catches his arm; Erik goes perfectly still, not even trusting himself to breathe. Charles trusts him, damn it. Charles trusts him enough to come closer, to sit next to Erik and put a hand on his knee. "I know that now," Charles says softly. "And I'm sorry for listening to your subconscious instead of to _you_."

Erik nods, not looking at him. It doesn't stop him from getting the rest of his clothes--his shirt, which he pulls on over his head, and then he gathers up his belt and his watch with his power. Boots. He still needs his boots.

"You don't have to go," Charles says. Erik can't help thinking that it's mostly about his now-unattended hard-on. Charles lets out an exasperated breath--one timed just so, one that can't have been inspired by anything other than Erik's thought.

// You can't turn it off even if you're asked to, can you? //

// I can't turn it off even if I want to, // Charles snaps back at him, and the spike of that thought into his mind hurts just a little--Charles's frustration leaves the edges of it slightly singed. Erik wonders if Charles realizes that he has that power, too, the power to hurt someone with nothing but a thought, and when Charles winces, Erik can only conclude the answer's yes. Or _now_ it's yes, even if it wasn't before. But Charles sighs again and rubs at his forehead. "I'm sorry. But no. I can't turn it off. There are times I wish I could."

"Just act on what I tell you with my mouth, not with my mind, and we won't have more nights like this," Erik says. "But I can't stay."

"I could stop you--" Erik has time to glance over his shoulder, not quite time to make eye contact before Charles blurts out, horrified, "No! God, no, I don't mean that--go if you want, I'd never make you--" Erik's looking at him now, but it's Charles who won't meet his eyes this time. "What I meant was--I could stop you from hurting me, if it came to that."

Erik sighs. "So you've seen the nightmares."

"And what you do when you're having them. Yes." Charles does meet his eyes now, and he's all earnest hope and the belief that he can make things all better-- _he_ can, with the power of his mind. Formidable powers, yes, but still.

"Try and understand, Charles." And it isn't until Erik says those words that he realizes how badly he wants Charles to understand him, even if sometimes efforts in that direction seem futile. "I know you could keep me from hurting you. But I don't think I could live with the way you'd do it."

He can see in the set of Charles's shoulders, the way they droop, that Charles does understand. Charles doesn't try to keep him from leaving the bedroom, and Erik gathers up his boots and pushes the door open with his power.

It presents an odd picture, him walking out of Charles's bedroom so early, jeans unbuttoned, boots in hand, hair mussed--particularly when he passes Raven at the end of the hallway. But she does nothing more than raise her false blonde eyebrows at him, and he's grateful there's at least one person in this house who knows better than to ask.

* * *

Of course, the hell of it is that Charles is right.

Erik thinks about that while he's jerking off; it's not as though his body approved of the aborted sex, either. He does want--he _is_ interested in-- _damn Charles, anyway._

The spark of anger goes along with the pain like old friends, old lovers. Erik's hand tightens on his cock; he keeps going, keeps moving his hand. His left hand comes up to his chest, his fingernails hover over his nipple, he _wants_ \--

He can't do it. He grits his teeth and slams his hips up, friction heating his palm and his cock, getting himself closer and closer. Not there, though, the pleasure's there but not good enough, and damn Charles, _fuck_ Charles, he would never have let himself even think about this if it hadn't been for Charles and his probing, meddling power...

The thought glances through him in memory-- _I can't turn it off even if I want to_ , and the flicker of pain he'd gotten from it. Charles's pain. No hands, no teeth, no straps, no blades, just a thought, and the man behind it, and-- _fuck. Yes. Charles..._

He comes with a gasp, back arching, hand working his cock over and over until he's sore. He collapses when it's over, smeared and sticky, gasping for air. And if there's a whisper across his mind as he comes down from it, he'll do Charles the courtesy of assuming it was only because his thoughts were too loud to keep out.

* * *

Charles is kind enough not to mention it at breakfast, or at lunch, or during their afternoon jog. He doesn't mention it when Erik corners him in the hallway and puts his hands to either side of Charles's shoulders, blocking Charles in with his body.

He gets interested very quickly, though, perhaps even more quickly than usual. His eyes go dark, and he licks his lips. "Anything you want," Charles promises. "Just say the word. Or think it."

"You're being very agreeable today. It's as if you think you have something to make up for." Erik stares into Charles's eyes, and Charles wilts a little under Erik's gaze. "Got a brain-full last night, did you?"

"I wasn't trying," Charles says softly. "You were--noisy."

"You were horny, and I was beating off." Charles acknowledges it with a rueful shrug. "Were you?"

Charles sighs; he drops his head back against the wall. "Not at first."

"But after...?"

"Erik, for God's sake--"

"Tell me. You owe me that." Erik reaches out and strokes his fingertips down the front of Charles's throat. "You owe me."

Charles shivers with the touch, eyes closing. // What you were thinking about, // he projects. // Your thoughts... I couldn't help... God, Erik, I just want to make you happy... //

"I'm sure you believe that." Erik catches Charles by the throat. "Look at me."

Charles does; he doesn't look startled or scared. Erik's hand on his throat isn't a threat to him. Erik wishes he could know whether it's arousing, from context, from the way it could theoretically be a danger to him, or if it's just like being touched anywhere else.

"There would have to be rules," Erik says, but Charles is already nodding, eyes bright with want, lips parted.

// Yes, _yes_ , // Charles tells him, thoughts nearly tumbling over themselves with eagerness. Erik squints at Charles, and Charles lets him in a little further, far enough to see that it isn't about wanting to make Erik uncomfortable, isn't about wanting to have power over him--for Charles, it really is about giving Erik what he wants.

Erik draws back and lets his hand drop away from Charles's throat. "We try it. Once. If it doesn't work, you agree never to bring it up again. Deal?"

"Deal," Charles says, out loud this time.

Erik nods. "Give me a few days. I still need some time."

"I understand." Charles nods. "At your pace."

His pace. It's a reassuring thought. It also makes Erik keenly aware of the way his body's urging him to do something, take something, expend some of this arousal on the man he's got pinned to the wall. Charles's eyes go wide, and his breath stutters a little. "Yes," he whispers.

Erik glances around the hallway, but Charles shakes his head. "No one anywhere nearby. I'll tell you if they get close."

"You're sure?" Erik asks, but he's already unbuckling Charles's belt with his power. He yanks Charles's zipper down with his magnetism, too. He reaches into Charles's fly and wraps his hand around Charles's cock, and Charles groans and tilts his head back, biting his lower lip to keep in most of the sounds.

// I thought you said there wasn't anyone nearby, // Erik thinks at him, grinning. He speeds up, jerking Charles's cock a little more roughly.

Charles gasps and pushes his hips forward, thrusts his cock against Erik's palm. // There's not, but why bring them running? //

// Fair enough. // Erik comes in a little closer and braces his forearm against Charles's chest, pinning him to the wall. // You know what I want you to do to me. //

Charles strains not to let out any noises, but his mind is abuzz with pleasure, pleasure he's projecting at Erik. Erik can feel what he's feeling, can sense how aroused Charles is just contemplating Erik's fantasy. // Yes, I know, Erik. Yes. Yes, please, more... //

// You can be careful, right? You won't go further than I want you to? //

// Never. I would never hurt you, not unless you asked. // Charles looks up at him, expression pleading now. // Erik, so close, let me, have to-- //

Erik drops to his knees, and Charles cries out mentally, startled. He doesn't have time to be startled for long, though; Erik swallows his cock down, rubs hard at the underside with his tongue, and does his best to share his thoughts, his feelings, with Charles--the pleasure at getting to taste Charles like this, the warmth of Charles's cock in his mouth, the urge to please Charles as much as Charles wants to please him, the nervousness layered with anticipation, thinking about Charles hurting him with his mind...

Charles sinks his hands into Erik's hair and holds him close, grunting softly as he comes in soft, quick pulses, his come filling Erik's mouth. He slumps back against the wall when he's done, and Erik eases his mouth back, very gently. Charles is hasty with his clothes--it's one thing to be caught having a private encounter in a hallway and quite another to be caught with one's cock hanging out--but when he's got his trousers zipped again, he pauses long enough for Erik to know he's scanning around for people.

He wrinkles his nose a little. "Hank's looking for me."

"Can it wait?"

Charles looks down the front of Erik's body, notices where his cock's straining at his jeans. He nods. "It can wait long enough for this, but we'd better go to your room."

"Come on, then."

"Gladly," Charles says, and though he still looks a little dizzy from his own orgasm, he follows Erik down the hall.

* * *

In spite of Charles's reassurances, in spite of the time Erik's taken to decide he really is ready for this, when the time comes Erik is still so nervous his hands shake. Fortunately, he won't need his hands to bind Charles's hands to the bedframe; they have a pair of police-grade handcuffs, which are easy to manipulate. Not too heavy, very few moving parts. He sets them carefully on the nightstand and climbs into bed with Charles.

"On my back, I think?" Charles scoots back on the bed, lifting his arms above his head and resting them near the bedframe. The bedframe is ornate enough Erik could probably manipulate it all by itself, restrain Charles's hands with that, but... if something goes wrong, Erik doesn't want Raven having to cut Charles free with a hacksaw. Better if they use something that simply has a key.

"It won't go wrong," Charles says softly. "I trust you, Erik."

"You shouldn't," Erik says, coming up and straddling Charles's thighs. "I don't know if I'd trust me, if I were you." He frowns, thinking about it. If he were Charles, if he were where Charles is--

"I'm not going to take you over," Charles says, looking straight into Erik's eyes. "I don't believe you'll hurt me."

"I don't plan on it. But if it comes to that, if I'm out of control--if it's that or allow me to hurt you--"

"Don't think like that." Charles reaches out, puts his hands on Erik's thighs. Erik sighs and settles down; there's no way to know but to do it, and he's come too far, wants this too much, to stop now.

He takes up the handcuffs with his power, opens up both halves. Charles lifts his hands, and Erik fastens one cuff, then gently draws Charles's hand above his head. He slips the other cuff behind the bedrail, and when Charles puts his other hand up, Erik locks the second cuff into place. There isn't much point in double-locking the things--if he gets upset enough to squeeze the cuffs, that little metal lever won't protect Charles's wrists--but he does it anyway, a small amount of extra security to set his own mind at rest.

Charles relaxes, squirming until his shoulders are in a more comfortable position. "Do you want to do anything about my legs?"

"Not--" _this time_ , Erik thinks. He stops himself from saying it, for all the good it does, but of course Charles plucks the thought out of midair.

"If it goes well, there can always be a next time," Charles says. "But only if you want it. Only then."

Erik nods, and he bends down, putting his arms to either side of Charles's chest and kissing the upper swell of his pectoral muscle, just under the collarbone. Charles lets out a soft sigh, and Erik keeps going, licking gently across Charles's body.

// Can you hear me? //

Charles hesitates, but of course he can. // Yes, Erik. I'm right here with you. // Erik keeps going, pressing small, slow kisses to Charles's chest, and Charles hums with pleasure before continuing. // I'm ready, and I still want to, but I won't start until you tell me. It's on your say, Erik. Every bit of it. //

// Good. Thank you. // Erik moves down a few inches, kisses the spot just above Charles's stomach. Charles twists his hips, cock hardening beneath Erik's chest; Erik's hard, too, more and more by the second. Having his mouth on Charles's body does tend to produce that effect.

Charles spreads his legs wider, trying to wedge Erik between them; Erik sweeps his hands down Charles's sides and rests them lightly on his hips. He keeps moving down Charles's stomach, one small, gentle kiss at a time, until he's at Charles's bellybutton, where he licks a slow, lazy path around it and then dips his tongue inside.

It makes Charles squirm. // Ticklish, // Charles says. As if Erik didn't know that. // Sorry, sorry -- anything you want... //

// You, // Erik thinks at him. // I want you. I want to fuck you, I want--I want you to hurt me while I'm fucking you-- //

Charles groans; his handcuffs rattle against the bedframe. "I'm ready," Charles murmurs. "I'm ready whenever you are, just say when..."

A flicker of sharp, solid want runs through Erik, and Charles must hear it, must know it's there, but he doesn't do anything. Erik looks at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"No," Charles whispers. "You were right. I can't just act on what you think or what your emotions tell me. I'm ready, I want to, I just--I'm just waiting for you to say it out loud."

Erik exhales softly and nods. He rubs his cheek against Charles's thigh, and Charles shudders, long and slow.

"Now, Charles," Erik whispers.

There's a split-second of discomfort, a tiny hint of pain that radiates from everywhere and nowhere all at once. As soon as it's done, it's done; there are no ghosts, nothing left over that aches or hurts. Gone as easily as it came. Erik blinks; he might have missed it if he hadn't known, hadn't been watching out for it.

"I'm trying to be careful," Charles says; he almost sounds apologetic. Erik glances up at him, and Charles licks his lips. "Do you want it to be more?"

"Yes, I do," Erik says, a small thrill of fear racing its way up his spine. It's not the sort of fear that's going to have him throwing things across the room in his sleep, though; it's the sort of fear that runs through him when he's feeling most alive. "The same amount, but longer; can you do that?"

"Yes." Charles squirms a little, his thigh brushing Erik's cheek as he bends his leg at the knee. "How long?"

"Two seconds. Long enough for me to feel it, really feel it."

Charles nods. "Tell me when."

"Now."

The pain comes again, and again it's nothing Eric can't handle. It lasts longer this time, gives him something to really feel, the way he'd asked. And oh, yes, Charles is clever, it's _good_ , but--

"You bit harder than that, and you weren't even trying," Erik says. "Hurt me that much. Like the bite. I want you to."

"Now?"

"Now."

This time it's sharper, fierce, digs in hard and leaves Erik gasping. His cock throbs between his legs; he surges up the bed, gets a hand into Charles's hair and kisses him, pinning his head back on the pillow. His mind is full of _yes_ , of _yes, Charles, yes, that_ , and Charles moans underneath him, spreading his legs.

"Do it again," Erik whispers. Charles rocks his hips up; his cock goes sliding across Erik's thigh. The pain pushes into him, still coming from everywhere, from nowhere, hurting like an ache, a cramp, a burn, a cut, like everything, like nothing he's ever felt before. He comes out of it with his open mouth pressed to Charles's cheek, panting for breath. Charles is no better off.

"God," Charles whispers. "Erik, yes, I can feel how good it is for you--"

"Then that saves me the trouble of telling you." Erik rests his head against Charles's shoulder for a moment. "I need to fuck you. I need to fuck you while you're hurting me."

"You won't get any objections out of me."

"I'd hoped not." Erik reaches out with his power; he can feel the grooved lid of the Vaseline, and he uses the metal handle on Charles's nightstand to tug the drawer open, pulling the jar up and out of the drawer by the lid. He can unscrew the lid with his power, but the jar itself is glass; he reaches up and catches it before it can fall.

He pushes Charles's legs apart a little further with his thigh, and Charles grins at him, accomodating the motion. When Erik backs off so he can apply the hint of lubrication, Charles moans out loud and sends his thoughts into Erik's head; Erik wonders if he's doing it on purpose, or if he's so turned on he's losing the ability to speak. // Yes, please, in me, so good, want you to, please, Erik, please... //

Erik groans in return, and when he pushes into Charles, he can only hope Charles hears the burst of _so good, so good, just right, yes_ that flickers across his own thoughts. He lets himself press in deeply, as deep as he can, and then moves inside Charles, just enough to get Charles gasping with pleasure.

"Charles," Erik whispers. "Charles--"

// Yes, here, here, don't stop, please don't stop... //

"Charles, again." Erik waits until Charles opens his eyes and looks up. "Again. Hurt me again."

Charles shudders and nods, and for a moment there's nothing. And then the pain fills him, the clear, bright slice of it radiating through his body, and he shifts his hips, fucking the sensation right back into Charles. It's like scratching an itch, or--like being scratched, and sharing the itch it's fulfilling with his lover, or--there are no words for it, only the way it feels, perfect, just what he'd been hoping it would be.

There's a gasp underneath him, Charles gasping as the pain dies down. Charles's arms come up, handcuffs banging against the bedrail, and Erik weights them down with a thought, pushing the cuffs and Charles's wrists into the pillows. When the pain's gone, it leaves just the slow, sweet slide of Erik's cock into Charles's body, and Erik kisses Charles's cheek, presses kisses to his jaw, works his way across to Charles's open, gasping mouth.

// Tell me, // Erik thinks. // Tell me what it's like for you. //

// How do I-- // For a moment, Charles grasps for words, but he doesn't find them. Instead, he projects his half of it into Erik's mind: the delicacy involved in hurting someone's mind without doing any damage, the satisfaction of modulating that pain to Erik's desires, the whirling rush of Erik's emotions when the pain comes in and blots out the rest of the world, the joy and relief from having that need met and having it met in a way that feels _safe_. Then there's the rest: the stretch and burn of having Erik inside him, the challenge of keeping his mind clear when Erik's giving him so much pleasure. There's the tiny hint of nervousness when it comes to his wrists: such delicate things, small bones encased in unyielding metal, and there's the knowledge that Erik could hurt him, too, if he wanted. Erik could break his wrists, could do so much more than that, and all promises aside, maybe Charles could stop him and maybe he couldn't--maybe Erik's too strong these days for Charles to stop him before it's too late.

Erik catches his breath and nods, sliding his hands up the length of Charles's arms, holding Charles's wrists in his hands. The cuffs fall away, and as Charles's eyes widen, Erik threads his fingers through Charles's, holding on to him.

"You don't have to--"

"Hurt me again, Charles."

Charles looks at him, and there's something in his eyes that Erik can identify, now, that he recognizes after hearing all of Charles's deepest thoughts. It's longing, and desire, and pride, the excitement and anticipation of knowing Erik needs something that only Charles can give him.

He gives it; he gives Erik what Erik's asking for, what he was so sure Erik needed. The pain is gorgeous, so wrapped up in the pleasure of being with Charles, this way, bodies and minds joined, that Erik starts wondering how he can possibly know one from the other--the pain _is_ the pleasure, the pleasure _is_ the pain, and it's all so good he doesn't know how he can possibly bear more of it.

It eases as soon as he forms the thought, and he shakes his head, driving deeper into Charles. "Don't stop," he growls. "Don't stop."

"You-- _God_ \--" // You have to breathe, // Charles insists. // I won't have you passing out on me. I'll stop it often enough for you to breathe. //

Erik nods; it's a reasonable enough demand. Still, when he starts moving into Charles, finally taking up a fast, rough rhythm, he takes a deep breath and then says--insists-- " _Now_ , damn you!"

Charles gives it to him, and this time there's more than just the pain. This time the pain ebbs and flows, moves in rhythm with Erik's thrusts, lets Erik gasp for air before curling into him again and digging in with sharp, tense claws. Erik moans, cries out, doesn't know what he's feeling or thinking or even saying, but it's good, it's _good_ , he's wanted it so badly, he _wanted_ , and it's this, it's _only_ this, it's him, _here_ , warm and safe in this bed with Charles, Charles, _Charles_ \--

Charles's voice is singing in his mind as he comes, Charles's presence riding along with the wave of his orgasm. He feels Charles coming, too, in his mind and in the tight squeezes around his cock and the hot pulses between their stomachs.

When they finally come back to themselves, Erik's wrapped so tightly around Charles that it would likely take a mutant with superhuman strength to separate them. Charles is clinging just as much, and his thoughts are a murmur just out of Erik's reach--the low-level mind-babble of a satiated telepath.

Erik exhales softly and eases his grip on Charles; Charles lets out a soft noise of protest but lets Erik fall to the side, still keeping an arm around Charles's shoulders.

"I suppose you don't really have to ask if it was good for me," Erik murmurs.

Charles laughs. "No," he mumbles. "It was good for me, too."

"I could tell." Erik squeezes Charles's shoulders. "We'll do it again, then. If you're amenable."

"I was rather hoping _you_ would be," Charles says, "so yes. Any time you'd like."

 _-end-_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Hurts To Think About](https://archiveofourown.org/works/298072) by [helens78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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